Ego Exitium
by Phantom Drache
Summary: What happens when you take a young adult wizard who just came out of a war for his very life, and put him in a school with young teenage mutants? Will love grow, will hate emerge? Will he save this world from the fate of his own, or is destiny inevitable? Either way, the Destroyer will be waiting for any who dare stand in his way.
1. Chapter 1

**Ego Exitium**

 **by Phantom Drache**

 **Chapter 1: The Schism**

 **I am become Death, destroyer of worlds.**

It is widely accepted by both certain members of the public as well as portions of the scientific community that our world is not the only world. This is not meant on the cosmic scale of course, for we have known of the other planets in our solar system for thousands of years, nor is this in regards to the universal scale seeing as in the last few decades we have discovered a great many other planets in other solar systems that may host living organisms.

We are talking about things in a scale beyond the universe. We are talking of the multiverse theory, which states that our universe is but one of many, potentially infinitely many. Each universe is its own separate entity, some virtually identical to our own, except perhaps for the fact that oranges taste like lemons and lemons taste like oranges, while others are so diametrically opposite to ours that you would be hard pressed to find any similarities at all.

We could spend hours simply discussing these potential universes, but that is neither here nor there. For now, let us view one such universe. For identification purposes, let's label this universe as P-264.

P-264 is part of what we'll refer to as the "marvel" multiverse for reasons that are irrelevant to our current conversation. As for what exactly that means, we need to move from talk of universes, and shrink our focus down to the cellular level.

In the group of universes that all fall under this umbrella name, the difference between them and our own universe lays in the genetic code of humanity. For lack of simpler terminology, the DNA of Homo Sapiens in these universes is far more complex than that of Homo Sapiens in our own universe. It is more developed, and has sections of it that are relatively new, and are only just coming to the forefront.

The primary example of this lay in a new nitrogenous base, known as "Xenium". Unlike any of the other bases it can link with any base, and is present in both DNA and RNA with no apparent pattern. It's primary composition is still unknown, though it's effects are not.

Depending on what section of the genome the Xenium base is found in, it can have wildly differing effects on the host. This can range from allowing them conscious control over their internal body temperature to unlocking parts of human DNA that have been shut down over millennia of evolution, physically altering their appearance into shapes that are almost impossible to recognise as human.

Due to the side effects of this base, those who possess it have been labelled a subcategory of human, with some referring to them as humanities first attempts at a next stage in human evolution, explaining why so many new traits are appearing in such a widespread number of people.

Named Homo Mutatio, after the latin term for 'change', the scientific community was divided on how to feel about this new section of humanity. The public was equally divided. Nicknaming the sudden mutation in human genetics as "the X gene" and it's bearers "mutants", most common folk became fearful towards their newfound brethren, and in many cases violent.

For some this was a religious issue, where they believed that 'mutants' were a sign that a god, goddess, or set of divine entities had judged humanity and was cursing the 'unworthy'. For others, it was simply xenophobia, the fear of those that are different from them. Either way, the most vocal of those who were taking a stand on this issue were those calling for the eradication of Homo Mutatio.

Because of this, several groups came into existence. For simplicity sake, let us separate them into five categories. There were the non-mutants who hate mutants, which we have already discussed. This includes many hate groups, religious organizations, and politicians.

The second group would be the non-mutants who fight for equal rights. These are typically scientists who think that homo Mutatio would be the next stage in human evolution and as such valuable to humanity's existence. It also includes several charities, friends and family of some mutants, and people who remember times where other groups of people were mistreated and almost eradicated.

The third group is made up of mutants who fight against normal humans. Some do it out of self-defense, either reactively or proactively. Some do it because they think that as the next stage in human evolution they are thusly superior to Homo Sapien. Groups in this section have since changed from referring to themselves as Homo Mutatio, and instead refer to themselves as Homo Superior.

The fourth group are those mutants who wish for peaceful coexistence with Homo Sapien. The most famous of these groups would be the ones called "X-Men", founded by Professor Charles Xavier, a telepath and leading figure in the realm of genetics. The X-Men fought against the mutants that were attempting to fight the normal humans, in a form of self-policing, and they sincerely hoped that they could peacefully coexist with Homo Sapien if they stopped their brethren from attacking humans, and never reacted violently towards those humans who did not appreciate their existence.

The fifth, final, and smallest group of people would be those who took no official stance on the matter. This is the smallest group not so much because few people were actually neutral, but rather because the other four factions would demand that a stance be taken, and neutrality was heavily frowned upon.

Now, in some universes, the X-Men succeeded in their quest for peace. In some, everything went swell, and they ended up all living peacefully and happily ever after. Now, unfortunately, P-264 is not one such universe.

The X-Men, fractured and scattered after their Leader was killed by one of their own in an incident known only as "The Schism", and then further hindered thanks to the advent of the Sentinel program, which involved training highly advanced robots to search out and eliminate those carrying the X-Gene.

Eventually, the first group of people stumbled upon an unusual sixth group of people. The magicians. Those capable of wielding power unimaginable. Not as powerful in individual tasks like certain mutants might be, and yet with access to a hundred mutants worth of abilities and able to alter reality itself with a mere thought, word, or gesture.

Of course, the first group decided to eliminate the magicals alongside the mutants. This lead to the already war-torn world being introduced to a whole new level of carnage.

Where a well trained mutant can equal a dozen soldiers, a properly trained and reasonably powerful magician can equal a hundred. Sadly, where Homo Sapien numbered in the billions, Homo Mutatio numbered in the low thousands, and the newly dubbed Homo Magicae only numbered in the hundreds.

This meant that while it would take entire armies to take down a stronghold of the "Gifted" as the mutants and magicals would refer to themselves, Homo Sapien had said armies and more at their disposal. In the process, the world was torn asunder. Metaphorically more so than literally, thankfully, though plenty of the latter occurred as well.

Now, this is not ancient history, like the phrasing may imply. This is happening in the present tense for those living in universe P-264. Let us take a look at one such person living in this world.

 _Latveria, Dr. Doom's Castle_

We find ourselves in a European country, founded by the Von Doom line. Surrounded originally by lush green plains, the victorian castle and associating town were once a prime tourist spot as well as a political powerhouse.

Now however, the plains have been torn apart, trampled upon, and painted the crimson of life and death. The castle, instead of open and inviting, is locked down both physically and with a large blue shield of pure magical energies that flickers as the munitions of Sentinels and siege weaponry hit it repeatedly.

On the walls, both mutants and sorcerer's defend their last refuge to their dying breaths. Every other safehouse has fallen. Every other home torn from them. This is their last stand, and they are slowly losing.

Inside, three figures stand around a glowing circle. One wears all crimson. This is Wanda Maximoff, the Scarlet Witch, one of the most powerful mutants in existence, capable of rewriting reality with her words alone.

The next figure is a man clad in silver armor and green robes. This is Victor Von Doom, or Doctor Doom as he had taken to calling himself. A master of technology and dabbler in the mystic, as well as artificially empowered by the powers cosmic and ruler of Latveria itself, Doom is an intense and intimidating figure no matter how he is approached.

The final figure is no less important, and yet by far the least renowned. They are a male, roughly six foot three in height and twenty years old. Clad in what used to be black slacks and an immaculate light blue button up with a white undershirt, the pants are now closer to brown in colour and the button up is open and torn in several locations. Red liquid seeping into the white fabric in several locations where it is also torn shows that the figure is injured.

His hair is a brilliant red, and his eyes a deep purple, though any observer might notice that his irises aren't the usual circles, and are instead diamond in shape. His hair, normally pulled back in a loose ponytail, is now messed up as though he had put his face in front of a high-powered fan, and is free to reach his shoulders. He has dark bags under his eyes, and his lightly tanned skin is oddly pale, probably due to a combination of exhaustion and blood-loss. The unlit cigarette in his mouth twitches as he clenches his jaw, which has gained some slight stubble lately.

This is Syd Strange, child of the former Sorcerer Supreme: Steven Strange. Or at least, that's what he had learned some thirty minutes ago. Originally believing his name to be Syd Calhoun, and his father to be a dead truck driver, Syd had been a normal kid even if he only had one parent who died when he was twelve thanks to a bank robbery that went bad.

At fourteen, he made a few less than stellar friends, ended up in a gang, and unlocked his magical abilities in a fit of pure self-preservation and instinct when a gunfight went south.

At fifteen, he had his own gang and controlled almost the entire city in which he grew up. He became one of the most feared and respected individuals in the area, though he was smart enough to keep his magical talents a secret from everyone besides his most trusted advisors.

At sixteen, he started a turf war with every other gang in the city, intentionally putting himself at a huge disadvantage "for the hell of it", as he had said when questioned by his advisors. No less than a hundred people had died by the time the dust settled, and Syd was one of a mere dozen gangsters who survived the encounter. Syd had lost the fight, though he had a huge smile on his face as he fled town.

At seventeen, he had gone back to finish high school, which he had dropped out of at fifteen. He got a highschool diploma after only three months of intense studying, and managed to get a scholarship to a small community college. He knew that they had only offered it because they wanted to "reform" him, but he would take what he could get.

At nineteen, he graduated early with a bachelor's degree of science in pharmacy. He then got a full-time job working for a small clinic in LA, and spent most of his free time studying the occult to finally try and figure out what exactly his powers were and why he had them, as well as becoming more powerful and efficient.

At twenty, he resumed using his powers for violence, though this time for good rather than self-service. Using the alias Emrys, he donned an over the top masquerade outfit, and began to fend off small-time crooks. This originally was purely for the adrenaline, though he wouldn't deny that helping people felt good.

At twenty one, the Sentinel project started targeting magicals, and Syds life was turned upside down for the second of three times. His life very quickly went from "work, protect the city, sleep, repeat" to "try not to die at any given moment".

He would meet up with and join forces with a series of interesting characters, eventually becoming known as a small-time but frighteningly efficient warrior and defender of the weaker Gifted. After several months of this, he would be invited to bring his troupe to the last safe place: Latveria.

This is where he finally met the man by the name of Stephen Strange, who would recognise Syd's unusual magical strength and mental acumen as being reminiscent to his own. It would take a few more months still for Stephen to figure out that Syd was his son, who his wife had said died in an accident right before she left in the middle of the night nearly twenty years prior.

Stephen did not immediately share this revelation with anyone, believing it to not be the right time for such matters. It was only a few days after Syd's twenty second birthday, when the humans launched their final and largest attack, that this truth was exposed.

The assault went on and on, and a full thirty hours after it began, Steven finally told Syd the truth of his heritage. He did this before handing Syd the Eye of Agamotto and heading into the field where he would lay waste to dozens of sentinels before being slain. In a combination of grief and blind rage, Syd would then decimate nearly a fifth of the invading forces single handedly before being dragged back inside by Wanda and Doom.

After waiting for him to collect himself, they explained their plan. Latveria was lost to them. With every passing moment, the encroaching forces grew closer and closer to breaking through their defences. There was nowhere left to turn, no forces left to call upon, no resources not used. This was the end.

Unless they did something that would violate not only several magical laws, but also a few moral and ethical lines. They would combine their powers, Doom supplying incredible technology, Syd the raw magical energy, and Wanda would add a touch of pure chaos to the mix.

Their hopes were that by combining and condensing all of this power, they would be capable of creating a singularity. A small tear in the fabric of reality that they would then pry open to allow for their forces to escape into a new world, one where they might be safe.

Syd had his doubts that this was even possible, but putting the Eye of Agamotto around his neck, he admitted that there was little else they could do. The ritual they would create wouldn't take too long, but it would drain the three of them past dry, and potentially even kill all three. They considered it worth it in the end.

Now we are caught up with the present of this universe. Syd grits his teeth, pushing through the pain of several injuries he gained while fighting the incoming forces, and the pain of channelling far more power than his mortal frame could contain.

The three figures stand in a triangle, with a large runic circle surrounding them and spread across all the surfaces of the room. A room in the heart of the castle, where the sounds of the war were faint, though rumbles still occasionally shook the stone. The three ignored said tremors.

Chanting in his deep, raspy voice, Syd is mirrored by the other two figures, all of their arms raised to the air. Between them, pure energy crackles. Raising their voices, the three channel even more power into the ritual. Syd almost stumbles as he feels the magic starting to literally burn him from the inside out. He pushes on, the Eye glowing brightly as it rests on his chest.

Slowly, the power between them starts to condense. Soon, a tiny pinprick of purest black appears. A soft breeze appears, whipping up the three's hair. Rapidly, the wind speeds up, almost lifting Syd off the ground.

"I think we got it running!" He yells towards his two older companions, who had also stopped chanting.

The hole stops trying to pull everything in as it expands, slowly revealing a circle that is made of a myriad of colours, like a 60's parade threw up on it. The Eye's light dies down. Unable to see through their portal, Syd lights his cigarette, takes a deep breath in and out, shrugs, and hopes that the other side is habitable.

"So, who wan-" At that very moment, the three look up as they feel the magical protections fall. Syd then feels a hand on his shoulder.

"We're sorry. This is the only way to make sure this never happens again, and the portal will only last a few more seconds." Before Syd can say anything, Doom pushes him with a surprising amount of force.

Flying forwards and tumbling so his face is almost on the ground looking back, Syd can barely let loose a shout of surprise. At that very instant, a loud roar of fire rushes through the reinforced door to the room. The last thing Syd sees of his home universe is a group of Sentinels behind the now blazing door and his two companions turning to defend themselves.

The portal closes the instant Syd is through, and he finds himself engulfed in darkness. Floating for a moment, his only thought is 'well, fuck'. He doesn't quite know how to feel about this development, though he's pretty upset over the fact that Doom had made him drop his smoke.

Due to his magic he's basically immune to things like nicotine addiction, but he had started smoking at fifteen and it had become a habit. Though he has a pack in his shirt, he's not sure how long he'll be in this void, and as such will probably need to ration it.

As he thinks this, the Eye of Agamotto on his chest starts to glow once more. Furrowing his eyes, Syd pulls it off and goes to examine it. The moment it's off his neck, however, it rips itself out of his hands and flies a little bit aways where it stops.

Then it starts to spin. The glow intensifies, as does the spinning, until Syd has to shield his eyes from the ball of bright green light it has become. Suddenly, he feels something striking his body.

Once, twice, a total of seven times. He can feel the impact not only damaging his already strained body, but also ripping something away from him. With each hit, he feels weaker and weaker, until he can barely maintain consciousness.

Then, as suddenly as it started it stops. Opening his eyes, Syd is surprised to find that now everything is blue, and there's a harsh wind pushing his hair forward into his eyes. When Syd blinks and looks again, he finds that he's actually in the sky and free falling.

Eyes widening, Syd has just enough time to grasp that he's hurtling towards the ground at a very high velocity before he slams back first into a pool of water. He thankfully instantly loses consciousness before the pain of several broken bones hits him.

 _Xavier's School for the Gifted and Talented, roughly one day later._

A white haired woman and a large blue figure stand in a room while a bald man in a wheel chair sits besides them. The room is mostly white and silver, with medical equipment scattered about. In the center of the room, a heavily bandaged figure lays on a table.

"Honestly it's a miracle he's alive. Several lacerations, bullet holes, and puncture wounds; second and borderline third degree burns covering nearly a quarter of his body; the impact damage from hitting the water; nerve damage in his arms and chest from some unknown source. Most people would have had to be admitted to an ICU and even then they'd have to fight tooth and nail for anything better than a fifty percent chance of survival. Yet remarkably, not only has he remained stable, but a good percentage of the damage has been healed in a mere twenty four hours."

This analysis comes from the large blue figure. Vaguely ape-like in stature, and completely covered in fur from can be seen under a white lab coat, brown pants, a tan shirt, and a pair of black square glasses, the figure is one Henry 'Hank' McCoy. Hank acts as the medic for this facility.

"Any sign of the x-gene? There were no planes in the sky when he fell, so my guess is that he's some kind of flyer, though that wouldn't explain his healing factor."

Resting one hand against the chest of Syd, the white haired woman is the one to question Hank. Tall, slender, and of obvious african descent given ehr skin tone, Ororo Munroe is more of a lover than a fighter by nature, and has a degree in literature which she puts to good use to teach kids english and occasionally other languages.

"I must admit that there is something odd with his DNA that marks him as something other than base-line human, but no. There wasn't any trace of the X-Gene."

"Hmm, can I see those result?" this unusual request comes from the third member of this party, the bald man in a wheelchair.

Professor Charles Xavier is widely recognised and loved for both his intellect and compassionate personality. He started attempting to gather fellow mutants when he was young, with his former best friend Erik Lehnsherr at his side. That didn't go according to plan, but Xavier was positive that eventually his message of peace and coexistence would spread across the globe.

Taking the papers that Hank was passing him, Xavier skimmed most of the basic information. Average bone density; slightly above average height; surprisingly has 'pink' muscle fibers in about half of his body, with the other fifty percent split evenly between 'white' and 'red' indicating excellent physical abilities; most injuries sustained within the last forty eight hours, although a few scars indicate injuries sustained roughly five to ten years ago.

Most of this information is ultimately useless to the question at hand, and what Xavier does read indicates someone of slight interest, but hardly anything revolutionary. Getting to the section he was looking for, Xavier analyses the readings on the unknown mans DNA. What he sees causes his bald eyebrows to raise in surprise.

"Well, that certainly explains a lot." Xaviers two companions share a glance while unwatched, Syd's eyelid twitches.

"It would appear that our young friend happens to be a magic user. That would explain not only how he managed to find himself falling into our pond from a clear sky, but also how he's managed to survive such wounds and heal so rapidly. Those of mystical persuasion tend to circulate the powers arcane through their body even while unconscious, healing that which would require medical attention otherwise."

"You mean to tell me, a man of science, that you actually believe in magic?" While Ororo looks like she's on the fence about this revelation, Hank is less than convinced.

"I would retort that not only do I believe in the arts arcane, but have seen it with my own eyes and am close friends with someone of incredible power and renown in the magical communities. Of course, when we first met, I was equally disbelieving of his talents as you are now. That was before he showed me things that to this day I still have questions about."

"What is your friends name?" Hank shakes his head and moves to check the medical equipment again, while Ororo looks deeply interested about this mysterious person.

"You've actually met him before, and he should be coming over for tea here in a little over a month if he's available. Doctor Stephen Strange, also known as the apprentice to the current Sorcerer Supreme."

A sudden jerk from Syd catches the three's attention. He ignores Hanks attempts to hold him down, and reaches with shaking hand toward Xavier. Weakly grasping Xaviers shirt, Syd's messed up hair is pushed to the side to reveal nearly crazed eyes.

"W-What...did...you s-say?"

 **I am become Death, destroyer of worlds.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Restart**

 **I am Become Death, Destroyer of Worlds**

"What did you say?" The people in the room are shocked into silence for a moment before everyone jolts, Ororo and Hank only held from moving by a quickly raised hand from Charles.

"Please remain calm. We found you yesterday in dire condition. I'd be more than happy to answer whatever questions you have if you promise to not agitate your wounds."

Syd stays still for a moment before sighing and leaning back onto the table-cum-bed that he had woken upon. He takes a quick inventory of his surroundings, noting the people and objects around him as well as the fact that his clothes were nowhere to be seen, and he is dressed in bandages and a very loose hospital gown. His eyes widen a little when they land on Ororo, and after a few seconds of silence, he starts speaking again.

"What year is it?" An eyebrow raises on Charles face, though he answers the question regardless.

"The year is two thousand and fifteen A.D, and it is Tuesday the fifteenth of September. What is your name?" Syd takes another minute to process this information before

"Syd. My last name is irrelevant at the moment. Where am I?"

"Ah, I was wondering when we'd get to that. Allow me to introduce myself first. I am Professor Charles Xavier, and we are at my school here in New York. Xavier's school for the gifted and talented, as I like to call it. Of course, it's secretly a school for mutants." Syd's eyebrows raise sharply, and his eyes twitch from side to side for a moment, like he's having a mental debate with himself.

"Why tell me that? You don't know me." Charles chuckles a little.

"Well, for starters, it's my personal belief that all people are inherently good even if their circumstances force them to do bad things, and as such I refuse to judge people before I even get to know them. Secondly, you seem to know my dear friend Doctor Strange, or at least of him. Therefore it would be rude to not extend you the benefit of the doubt on his behalf."

"I...see. I suppose that in a twisted way, that makes a certain amount of sense. Well, in the spirit of peace and friendship, allow me to introduce myself more fully. My name is Syd Calhoun, warlock extraordinaire. Last thing I can remember is messing around with a spell that should allow me to create a small black hole. Next thing I know, everything explodes and i'm free falling. I crash land, and wake up, apparently several thousand miles away from where I started. As well as a few years in the past."

If the others in the room weren't interested in Syd before, they certainly are now. Hank in particular seems ready to ask heaps of questions, judging by the way he immediately leaps into the conversation.

"Time travel? How far have you traversed? Do you think you could replicate it? Are you positive that it's time travel and not cross-reality traveling? And how would you create a contained, localized singularity in the first place? The sheer energy requirements alone would be mind-boggling." A deep sigh escapes from Syd and Ororo, nearly in unison.

"To put it bluntly, I have no idea. My memories are kinda fuzzy right now, probably from the magical backlash of the sudden jump. I also feel like I got hit by a truck that then decided to back up over me. I'm pretty sure it was twenty twenty-four last I checked the calendar. I'm also not sure how I know this 'Dr. Strange' you mentioned, only that his name sounded extremely familiar."

Now, Usually Syd wouldn't even bother trying to lie to someone as important as Charles Xavier: martyr and former symbol of hope for mutant kind. However he's not entirely sure what he should or shouldn't say in regards to what would basically be the future. Butterfly effect and all that jazz. If he could find a way to get to Dr. Strange, he could probably confide in him the truth, and they could decide how to move forward from there. Thankfully, Xavier seems to buy his story fairly easily.

"I see. To traverse time and space, truly I know little about the mystic arts if this is something you can do, even if unintentionally. Perhaps I could get Strange to come here a bit earlier than previously thought, see if he could try to help you recover your memories. In the meantime, do you have any place you could stay?" Syd snorts a little.

"Anybody who I might crash with either doesn't know about magic and would thus not understand how I showed up looking older, or they haven't met me yet." Plus who knows who does and doesn't exist in this reality?

"Then I suppose you can stay with us." Ororo and Hank start to open their mouths to potentially question or argue this decision, but another raised hand from Xavier stops them.

"I know we have little reason to trust one another, but trust can't come from nothing. If one doesn't extend a hand in friendship to a stranger, it is impossible to make friends at all. Young Syd here shall be allowed to stay here as long as needed, and if we're lucky he might even make some friends with our students." Syd's not so sure how he feels about being spoken about in the third person, but at least everything is going smoothly.

"Thanks for the offer, professor. If you ever need a favor, consider it done." Xavier chuckles a little before turning his wheelchair around.

"There's no need for that, but i'll keep it in mind. Now, I want you to focus on healing up. Tomorrow if you're feeling well we can move you into an actual room and introduce you to the others. Hank, if you wouldn't mind walking with me?"

With that, the two men leave the room, leaving Syd and Ororo alone. Syd slowly pushes himself into a sitting position while Ororo looks at him with an unreadable expression. Looking around, Syd grimaces when he doesn't see his clothing anywhere. Raising one hand he snaps his fingers, causing a few red and black sparks to fly before fading. Frowning, he does this again, with the same results.

"What are you doing?" Syd glares at the back of his hand.

"Trying to open my pocket dimension storage. Couldn't help but notice that my stuff is gone."

"Most of your clothes had been torn to shreds, and whatever was in your pockets was soaked since you fell into a pond. Was there something important we might have missed?" Syd looks up at her before returning to trying to do something with his hand.

"Just my smokes. Well, my phone too but I don't even want to try figuring out how that'd work." Ororo looks at him in disdain, as he mutters a few curse words under his breath and tries snapping his fingers again, this time a flickering circle appears made out of the black and red sparks before it just as quickly vanishes.

"You do know that smoking is bad for you right?" Syd finally turns all the way around to look her in the eyes.

"Nope. I'm a complete moron." A twitch forms in her eyebrow and she crosses her arms in front of her chest.

"I highly suggest you don't take that tone with me, young man." syd snorts a little before raising his right hand to point palm towards the opposite wall.

Furrowing his brows, a haze of black and red appears around his hand, swirling around it for a moment before coalescing into a black glove with a silver circular plate on the back. The plate has a raised center with engraved symbols that make no sense to Ororo, and there are five differently coloured gemstones embedded into the edges of the plate, each one pointing to one of his fingers.

The orange stone pointing towards his pinky finger glows a little and a leather clad book appears, hovering in the air in front of his hand. Syd moves it in front of him and it opens obediently. Curious, Ororo leans over a little to try and read it, only for the symbols inside to means absolutely nothing to her. Based on the click of his tongue against his teeth, they mean something to Syd though and he's not pleased.

"Look, you're not my mom and last I checked I don't even have a girlfriend at the moment let alone a wife, so I don't see how it's your business. Secondly, because of my magic i'm actually immune to the negative side effects of smoking. Thirdly, who said I was smoking regular cigarettes?" this draws Ororo's anger up short, as Syd continues to flip through the pages of incomprehensible chicken scratch.

"What else would you be smoking?" Syd sighs before waving his hand, causing the book to float off to the side as he turns to face her again.

"It's a magical herb, and I mean that quite literally. The closest mundane equivalent i've come up with as an explanation would be if you took marijuana but took out the THC, the chemical that gets you high, and instead of just calming you down it also boosts the rate that your magic recovers. Completely non addictive, the smoke carries no second hand side-effects other than smelling like lavender for some reason i've yet to figure out, and even if you're not magical the only possible danger of directly breathing it in is if you're asthmatic and can't handle a little smoke in your lungs. In other words, it's completely safe. Of course i'm gonna have to figure out a way to set up my garden of the stuff again, seeing as i'm no longer able to get to mine. Thankfully I keep a small stash of both dried leaves and some seeds in case of such an event. Now if I could just figure out why i've zeroed out."

"Zeroed out? Is that to do with that strange book of yours?"

"Okay, are you going to be this curious all the time?" The twitch returns, but Ororo takes a deep breath and tries not to get upset at her bosses new guest.

"I'm sorry if my curiosity is irritating. The existence of magic is something that i've been curious about since I was young. I wouldn't expect you to understand, just like i'm sure there's a lot about you that I don't know yet. Very long explanation short though: before I knew about mutants I was raised believing my powers to be mystical or perhaps even divine in nature, and when I learned that they weren't I was curious where the line was drawn. As you are living proof that magic is real, I can't help but wonder if perhaps you know the answers to questions i'd long since stopped asking."

Syd sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose with one hand. True, he can understand the sentiment. Lord knows how ravenous he was for knowledge when he first awoke his powers. However he's currently trying to both run a diagnostic on himself and maintain a plausible cover story. Both of which are difficult with someone questioning everything he's doing. He flips a few more pages in his book.

"No, it's fine. I understand that much at least. I'm just not in a really good mood, and I apologize for taking it out on you. A short story for a short story then. First, a question: what do you think magic is? And I don't mean the literal explanation of the metaphysical energies that power my abilities. What do you think the process of casting magic is like?" Ororo moves so that she and Syd are face to face before she leans against a wall as she thinks.

"Well, I always thought that you spent years studying ancient texts, and after that it was a matter of carefully formulating magical circles and waiting for the right circumstances to be able to cast spells."

"You'd be right if we were talking about ritual magic. Name's fairly self explanatory. What you don't seem to know is that magic comes in many flavors, for lack of a better phrase. The way you express magic is dependent on multiple things, though the two most important are education and personal beliefs. Over all, there are three primary categories for spells: Ritual, Incantation, and Blitz. Ritual is the slowest but each individual spell holds incredible power, while Blitz is the fastest to cast but is generally the weakest, with Incantation being the middle ground for both aspects. There are literally thousands of branches and sub-branches to each of those three categories, but it would take hours just to list the ones my magic falls under so let's skip that for now.

My magic is referred to as 'Conceptual Construct Magic', and falls under Blitz magic, though there are Ritual aspects to it. To summarize it as quickly as possible, I crystalized certain aspects of my personality alongside some of my magical power and soul, turning them into objects. Every time I use one, it gains 'points' and becomes a little more powerful. For some reason all of my 'points' are gone, meaning that each of my constructs is back to square one. Now for the book.

That's my 'Grimoire Magika'. It's a record of all the magic i've learned, as well as a way for me to keep track of my 'points' and it allows me to somewhat manually change how my constructs are growing. Because it's a magical construct it has an infinite number of pages and I can look up whatever information I need instantly so long as I actually know said information. Helps when i'm trying to remember which species of dragon is which, not so helpful when encountering a brand new situation."

"Dragons?" Syd waves his hand dismissively.

"A hypothetical example. Most dragons have been extinct for hundreds of years, and the few that still live are reclusive and more trouble than it's worth to hunt down either literally or figuratively. My point is that as much as it's the culmination of all my knowledge, it's still limited to MY knowledge. I have no clue why i've suddenly zeroed out or how I managed to end up at this location in this time. Nor do I have any idea how to return. This..this is just great. Man I need a smoke." Snapping his hand again with a look of concentration on his face, Ororo watches as he finally manages to create a small black and red circle in the air above his hand.

Out of the circle a small black orb appears, seemingly made out of oil or something along those lines. Sticking his hand deeper into the orb than should be possible, Syd rummages around for a moment before pulling a small plastic box out. The box looks a lot like a pack of cigarettes, only the box itself is pure black except for a blood red hexagon with a black cartoon bat in the center.

Opening the box, Syd takes a small pure black stick with red colouring the last two or so inches - again, looking incredibly similar to a real cigarette - and lifts his pointer finger to point straight up. Once more a small haze of red and black particles, which Ororo decides on closer inspection look a lot like ash, covers his finger. This time they converge and create a small flame on Syd's finger tip, which he uses to light his not-cigarette. Waving his finger to 'put out' the flame, Syd inhales deeply and then releases a small cloud of smoke. A small part of said cloud drifts into Ororo's face - by complete cosmic accident, Syd would swear up and down if ever asked - and she's about to make a really angry retort when a stray thought hits her just as the smell does.

"Huh. It really does smell like lavender. Weird." Syd snorts.

"Told you. So, any other odd questions you have about me or magic that you just can't wait to find the answers to?"

"You said that your magic is called 'conceptual construct' magic, and that it was crystallizations of your personality and soul. Isn't tearing your soul into pieces kind of bad for your health?" Syd shrugs, wincing a little as he aggravates one of his wounds.

"If you're not careful. To do it properly it's less 'tear a piece off your soul' and more 'shave a little off the top'. If you only take a small bit of soul away from the source, it's only about as painful as a splinter, and the main core and the new piece both heal fairly quickly, stabilizing. True, if someone were to somehow to the nigh impossible and actually break one of my weapons it would hurt like a bitch, but the fragments would reconverge to my core after a little time, and i'd actually become more powerful because of it. Of course, the more powerful the soul fragment the more painful it is when it's shattered, so the concept of spamming constructs and breaking them isn't really feasible for large scale power jumps. Plus if it gets too powerful it does actually run the risk of crippling me if it breaks. Thankfully with five fragments it'd take about a decade before any of them would reach that point, and i'd like to think myself smart enough to break it before it got that far, or just not allow it to break at all."

"Makes sense, I suppose. Like taking a snipping from a plant and potting it so it can become a whole new plant. So, what sort of 'aspects' did you put into your constructs?" Syd summons his glove once more, and points to each of the five gems as he speaks, taking another puff of his not cigarette as he does so.

"The Death Scythe: representative of the concept of Death. I funneled all of my fear into it. The War Hammer: the concept of Hate. That's my anger. Apollo's Bow: the concept Arrogance, as well as my pride. The Golden Coffin: Creation and my greed. And finally we have the Philosopher's Stone: made from the concept of Eternity and my regret." Ororo blinks and sits silently for a moment as Syd puffs away.

"Well...those sound….pleasant." Syd snorts.

"Don't worry, they're not supposed to. They were designed to be weapons of nearly unstoppable strength. They were created with the sole purpose of making me the most powerful being on the planet."

"Why?" Ororo's question brings Syd up short as his mind flashes to the last twenty four hours in his memory.

"A pipe dream from a time long past, before a child learned that power wasn't the most important thing in life." Syd stares off into the metaphorical void, flashes of the people he's lost floating by and dissipating.

The weapons had been made for the purpose of winning a war. A war that, if he has a say in it, would never happen in this world. A war that took from him things he didn't even know he had until it was too late. Syd breathes deeply of the relaxing herbs in his...he guesses 'joint' is the closest word. Blunt? He was never clear on pot-head nomenclature.

After a few minutes Syd resumes the conversation. Ororo asks a few more questions about his powers, and he answers them as simply as he can. Ororo doesn't ask him about his past, which he begrudgingly respects her for. He'll never tell her this of course, but this is actually the second time they had met.

The first was three years ago in his memory. She was aged, but was no less powerful for it. She had helped him learn that just because he had power didn't mean he could do everything on his own. He had nearly broken down when it took a pack of Sentinels to take her out. He would never forget the feeling he got from watching her raise her hands alongside Thor, literal God of Lightning, and call down a light show that nearly crystalized a square mile of land.

Eventually Syd became tired, and Ororo decided that further interrogation could wait until later. After showing him where spare clothing was kept, she turned off the lights in the infirmary and left Syd to his own devices. Syd slept that night, but only because his body demanded it. All night his mind was plagued with images from the last few days, both real and imaginary.

He slept, but his mind was not rested when Hank came back hours later to tell him that it was morning and he should get ready to move into his actual room. It was time for him to face this new world he had found himself in. Syd felt the need to ask where the nearest stiff drink was, but felt that it would deemed an inappropriate question. He was probably right.

 **I am Become Death, Destroyer of Worlds**


End file.
